Depths of Evil
by Gwen6
Summary: (COMPLETED) POST-TOB: An evil Bhaalspawn turned aside the power of a god, and ressurected Bhaal instead. Now he lives, as one of Murder's Chosen, and works to take control of Amn- just a bit of harmless fun where the bad guy wins...
1. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything to do with Baldur's Gate, Forgotten Realms, or anything like that. Please do not sue me, because I do not have much to sue for, and I am penniless, and all this is harmless fun, and you get the drift.**

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello. I am having a bit of a break from my sequel to Destiny and Duty… and for something different, I am writing this fic. It is a dark fic, about an evil Bhaalspawn who chose not to ascend… basically, it is about how he forges an empire for himself in Amn, and how he destroys all opposition, and things like that. It is rated R for possible violence, gore, etc. Updates for this and Magic and Murder might be rare, but rest assured, they will come. Apologies go to Dominique Sotto for semi-stealing her idea about a ****Chosen**** of Bhaal, but I really liked it… and it makes sense. Please don't hate me, if you read this. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this fic! Don't forget to review!**

**CHAPTER ONE: SPELLHOLD**

_7 Flamerule, 1380 DR_

 Alain stood on the highest tower of Spellhold, looking out upon the vast grey expanse of the ocean. At this time of morning, the apprentices and wizards who served him in the fortress were not awake yet, and the few guards who watched the sea for Amnian ships were hardly going to disturb him. If anyone even did want to disturb him, it would be nigh impossible, for his tower was closed to everyone except him, and only his will would open the way for anyone... it was probably the one place on the entire island where he could be alone with his thoughts.

 He looked a haunting figure. His jet-black mage robes were tight fitting around his chest, stomach and arms, but billowed wide from the hips down. They made him seem elegant, yet at the same time, closed off and aloof. He wore dark black gloves, of soft velvet, and a hooded cloak- again, black- descended, clasped by a golden brooch at his collar. Hair of dark brown was long and curled, spilling over his shoulders. Eyes held a great wisdom and intelligence, yet at the same time immense power, and they took in all his surroundings with the wariness of a man used to combat.

 An attractive man, now thirty years old, Alain was in his prime. His adventuring years behind him, nevertheless, his muscles and toned features were still present, as he was kept trim by magical duels between his teachers, as they sought to train the apprentices in the same quality as far off Silverymoon, or Neverwinter.

 Alain sighed, and turned from the balcony, and descended into the depths of his fortress, as the bells sounded for the start of the day. A smirk formed on his face. Today, there would be a sacrifice to Bhaal… for a servant of Mystra had been captured last night, trying to steal tomes from the great library he had amassed over the years. Today, the apprentices and wizards would bathe in the blood of the wizard, who had seen fit to challenge the Master of Spellhold.

 _Today, father… you shall drink deep…_

He felt the surge of primal desire for violence rise within him, and the touch of the god made him shiver almost expectantly. Ten years, and Alain still found himself basking with pleasure in the power of Murder… in the power of his father.

 For after defeating Amelyssan, Alain had made a conscious decision to turn down the power of a god, instead, using it to restore his father to his former glory. And then, in gratitude to his only surviving son, Bhaal had named him Chosen… and had poured much of his power into the mortal archmage. This way, Alain had power he had always dreamed of, and yet had someone greater than he to protect him if he needed it… for Bhaal would always protect his son, the one Child who had been loyal enough to resurrect him.

 Alain continued to descend through his tower, passing through room after room: his private vault of magical items amassed over the years of adventuring, as well as the years after that, when he had used the small army at his disposal to take what he wanted from the lords of Amn; his private chambers, where he slept; the altar to Bhaal… and many small rooms which served numerous purposes, such as scrying, or enchanting.

 Speaking the word of power, Alain watched as the wards keeping his tower sealed from the rest of Spellhold dissolved. What had been stone moments before now became a solid door of illithium, which slid open without a sound. Alain walked through the doorway, and as he left the tower, the door became solid rock again, and the wards reconstructed themselves.

 "Master!"

 His lieutenant, a powerful wizard named Maale strode into view, and bowed his head low. Alain gave an absent movement with his hand as acknowledgement, and continued to move forward, walking down a set of stone steps, past a balcony that overlooked the sea, until he entered the massive library of Spellhold. And here, Alain stopped, taking a careful, regal seat.

 Maale knelt before him, and said, "Her name is Reusa… and constant mind-probing has revealed her mission. She is a Harper, and volunteered to the High Lady Alustriel for a dangerous mission, which involved penetrating your fortress, and stealing the Grey Tome. From her mind, I have ascertained the identity of another Harper… _within this building_, as well as others who are working against you in southern Amn. I have also managed to find something shocking. The Harpers are working _with the Cyricists_ to defeat you. Alustriel knows of your efforts to turn the Sythillisian Empire to your control, and she has passed that information to the Cyricists who march with Cyrvrisnea. As we speak, Harper assassins are working to kill your emissaries there, supported by the clerics of the Dark Sun."

 Alain said, "Does it not seem suspect to you that someone who held such vital information would be sent into the fortress of an archmage with power to equal the Chosen of Mystra? Or is Alustriel arrogant enough to believe that a lowly Harper can get past my wards?"

 His lieutenant, a greying man in his fifties, who was influential within the Cowled Wizards, smiled faintly, and then said. "There were wards on her mind, which took six of us all night to shatter. It left he mad, and a wizard of lesser power than I would not have been able to interpret the disjointed images from her mind. But Alustriel was obviously thinking _you _would try to break the wards, and she had them equipped with spells to melt your brain if you even tried."

 The Bhaalspawn chuckled. "So she was really an assassin? By Bhaal, Alustriel is cunning… she thought I would take personal command of interrogation, believing that I would be prideful like the enemies she has faced so far… but instead, she has handed to us a useful mine of information… where is Reusa now, Maale?"

 The wizard said, "Locked in her cell. Her brain is completely devastated- she is acting like a two year-old, and is incapable of speech… will she be a suitable sacrifice for the Lord of Murder in this state, Master?"

 Alain nodded. "Yes… blood is blood, whether from an idiot or an archmage possessed of all her faculties. Though I am sure Bhaal welcomes the day when the blood of Alustriel and her sisters flows on my altar here… but my prattling does not bring me any closer to anything. Tell me, Maale. How is the campaign going in the south?"

 "The ogre magi have had control of Murann, as you know, for nearly five years. Imnescar is still a charred ruin, and Trademeet is occupied by a battalion of orcs. The entire south is completely held by the ogre magi. Any humans that survive have been turned into slaves, and are farming and mining the lands, bringing great wealth to the ogres. They are intelligent though, and are not pushing forward any more, content to consolidate their hold on the south. Like most, they are wary of Councillor Nalia."

 Snorting, Alain stood. "She is another one whose blood I cannot wait to see dripping on my altar… she served my brother, that paladin, Emmanuel. When I killed him though, and added his powers to my own, she fled. Apparently, she vowed to bring me to justice for my crimes, but I was never really interested. My father was resurrected shortly after that, and I was busy taking control of this island… perhaps, when the ogres are my servants, I can finally rid myself of de'Arnise."

 And then he stopped. 

 Maale asked, "You have an idea, Master?"

 The Bhaalspawn nodded with an evil smirk on his face. "Yes… I have an idea indeed. It seems I might finally have a use for the Thrall Collars… perhaps it is time to forget about emissaries, and use magic instead."

 Excitement rushed through him.

 Soon, despite the opposition of the Harpers _and _the Zhentarim, Alain would gain control of the Sythillisian Empire… and then he would have his own Empire… the empire of Bhaal, with temples and altars to his father, and orc warriors to chant their praises, and hobgoblins to slaughter in his name. 

*

 Cyrvrisnea, wife of Sythillis, was the one who really commanded the empire. Yet the appearance was that Sythillis controlled, and so when they sat in the throne room that had once belonged to the Governor of Murann, it was Sythillis who spoke to the emissaries, it was Sythillis who made the decisions… and so it was, that Sythillis had made the decision to accept the Lord of Brynnlaw and Master of Spellhold into their court.

 Staring at the Bhaalspawn as he entered, the ogre magi couldn't help but notice how attractive he was- he wore all-black robes, and although they looked simple, she could sense the power contained within his robes washing out around him. She had heard rumours about Alain crafting the robes, and from what she had heard, they were a priceless artefact.

 The robes of an ancient lich, Vecna, had been drained of their power, and then placed into a vessel of diamond, which had been drenched in the blood of ten wizards of considerable power. Blood from a gold dragon, along with demonic blood had also been added to it, and spells of magnificent scope had been incanted over the robes. The cloak he wore had been created in much the same way, though the life-force of a solar had been channelled into the black fabric, bound within the cloth by the blood of ten other wizards. Everything Alain wore was black. Rings of deepest obsidian glimmered dully, his boots were black… even the circlet on his forehead was a band of ebony... according to popular rumour, its core power had been drained from the Circlet of Netheril, and then it had been made even stronger with the blood of the Demogorgon, Prince of Demons.

 The only trace of colour- apart from his near-bronze skin- was a golden brooch that fastened at his collar. The metal had been forged into the insignia of Bhaal, with the tears of the god glistening red around it… Cyrvrisnea looked at those tears, and marvelled at the way they shifted colour ever-so-slightly, from deepest crimson, to a dull orange… were they jewels… or were they really the tears of the god… the _father _of the archmage who stood before them now.

 "Why are you here, puny human?"  
 Cyrvrisnea resisted the urge to wince. Her husband was mishandling it already. He was insulting someone- an immortal Chosen of Bhaal, an equal to the fabled Elminster- who held the power to kill him in an instant, and capture his soul as a plaything to keep him amused for all eternity.

 Yet when Alain spoke, in crisp, clear and stately tones, she couldn't hear any trace of anger… but then again, she couldn't hear any other emotion either. "Great and powerful Sythillis, Conqueror of Murann, Emperor of Southern Amn, I bid you welcome. I am Alain, Lord of Brynnlaw, and Master of Spellhold… and I have come to ask about an alliance… and to wonder why my emissaries lie dead when they were meant to be under your protection!"

 Now she could sense the anger… it rolled off him in palpable waves, yet his voice had not changed tone once, nor had his face shown any emotion whatsoever. Sythillis stood to his feet, and bellowed: "You insult me, Alain! You are small; you are no match for me! You should be bowing! Instead, you stand there as if you rule me! Apologise for your insult to me!"

 Alain paled then, and Cyrvrisnea could sense his fear. _Fear? _A smile played across her face… perhaps her husband did have his uses, though she hadn't thought an ogre would intimidate the famous Bhaalspawn, who had fought _dragons_ in the south…

 "My lord Sythillis, I am sorry… I beg your forgiveness."

 Her husband growled. "You will die, Alain! You are not-so-mighty as all say you are! Feel my wrath! Soon you be home with your father, puny human!"

 And lightning crackled in the hands of Sythillis, and Alain paled even more. "N- no, my lord Sythillis… p- p- please, do not kill me… please do not kill me… I have no wish to die… please; I will be your slave in everything… I will… I will swear an oath to obey you utterly!"  
 Sythillis shook his head. "No, you die."

 Alain looked around frantically at the ogre guards, who were advancing menacingly, and then tore from his robes two gleaming golden amulets. Even from here, Cyrvrisnea could sense the power within the metal. "Please… if… if you spare my life, great lord… I… I will give you these amulets…"

 Now Cyrvrisnea spoke. "What enchantments have these?"

 The Chosen of Bhaal looked at her, and bowed his head in humiliation and defeat. "Great lover of Sythillis… these amulets have bound within them the souls of demons… great Lords of the Abyss… they will protect you from magic, they will increase your power, and make you immune to all enchantment spells… this I swear on my power as a wizard…"

 Sythillis took them roughly, the lightning fading as quickly as it had come. Roughly, he threw one to her, and she caught it. She watched as he chanted a quick _identify _spell, and swiftly, she did the same. Flashes of insight as to what powers this charm had entered her mind. Power she had never felt before was locked within the metal, and she could see herself now, marching at the head of her troops, bathed in magical power, dealing death to the Councillor de'Arnise, whose magic had been able to defeat them at every turn… 

 Greedily, she looked at Sythillis, and said, "It is safe."

 He nodded, and then he placed his amulet around his neck. Cyrvrisnea was so busy studying the single blue gem set in the metal that she didn't notice the surprised, pained flinch of her lover, and the way he looked directly at Alain, his eyes glazed over, before regaining clarity. Had she seen that, perhaps she wouldn't have placed the amulet around her neck…

 The gold metal touched the back of her neck, and the jewel brushed against the skin of her chest. She stood for a moment; basking in the amount of power that rushed through her veins… she smiled, and looked upwards… and then shook her head, as a shivering numbness spread. 

 _Look at me, slave._

Helpless, Cyrvrisnea looked directly at Alain, who now stood, smug and confident. Within the depths of her mind, she screamed at having been manipulated so easily… but then she realised that Alain could sense her thoughts, for he was smiling. Immediately, she tried to fight, but then another shiver ran down her spine.

 _Stop fighting. You are my slave._

 "Alain- thank you for this gift. We great friends of the Bhaalspawn now. Follow us into our private rooms, and we will talk about a friendship."

 She dimly heard her husband speak to the archmage standing in front of her, and realised that the Chosen of Bhaal must be controlling everything that her husband said. _Speak, Cyrvrisnea, speak as I command you to._

 His mental command forced her mouth to open, and she found herself saying, "Yes, follow us… and we will talk about an alliance. We have ignored you for too long, Chosen of Bhaal. It is time for a change of friends."

 Inwardly, Cyrvrisnea was screaming.

*

 Alain teleported back to Spellhold in an instant, and was met by Maale, who bowed: "Master, did your plan succeed?"

 The Bhaalspawn nodded. "Yes… yes it did. Cyrvrisnea and her lover are my slaves now… I have given them relative freedom, but I can still sense their thoughts… and I can control them completely should I wish to do so… and before you ask, Maale, I did ensure that they cannot speak of their enslavement…"

 "Their first actions as allies of yours, my lord?"

 Alain smiled. "You are quick. I have commanded them to round up the Cyricists and send here to me… the temple to Cyric in the Small Teeth will soon be taken over by ogres, and the priests there will be sent here as well. In a day, with the help of teleport scrolls and my newest slaves, Bhaal will have a hundred priests of Cyric to bathe his altars."

 "Anything else?"

 "Oh… alert the pirates… we will be getting three shiploads of gold and gems…"

 Maale grinned. "So you have the beginnings of your empire then, Master."

 Alain nodded. "Yes I do… all I have to do now is kill Councillor de'Arnise, and I will be able to take complete control over Amn… and then we will see what Cyric can do against my father… we will see whether the Dark Sun can even stand against Bhaal, let alone challenge him for the portfolio of Murder… because I will be damned before I see my father lose power to Cyric."

 Maale left, to make sure that Spellhold was made ready for the influx of priests that would soon come their way… Alain sighed, and sat on the seats in his library, sipping a glass of mulled wine as he mused about future plans.

 So far, it had been easy… the work of ten years to establish his power base had paid off…

 The hardest times were on their way, for he doubted the Harpers or the Cyricists would allow themselves to be defeated by two slave collars... no, Alain would have to fight if he wanted the rest of Amn… but he was prepared to wait…

 After all, all good things come to those who wait.


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO: COUNCIL**

****

 He melted through the shadows in the form of a grey, rolling mist. A few commoners looked at the strange mist in surprise, but ignored it, believing it to be a figment of their imagination, for what smoke moved against the wind? Had Alain a corporeal form, he would have chuckled. Amnians were so quick to ignore magic; for they feared its power… they feared that by acknowledging it, they would have to find someway to deal with it.

 So they left the Cowled Wizards to deal with magic, and in doing so handed over all responsibilities and worries to the mysterious spell casters. And that suited Alain fine, for, as a member of the secret sect, he gained much of the power that the wizards possessed. After all, the inner council desired power above all else, and Alain could provide much more power if he controlled Amn than the weak Council of Six, who were interested in gold and nothing else.

 It amused Alain to have himself as a member of the Cowled Wizards, gradually converting more and more of the wizards to the worship of Bhaal, and then bringing them to Spellhold for training. The negligible training the Cowled Wizards offered was laughable, so when Alain offered to those wizards who worshipped his father, a chance to study with archmages and share in the massive library there, none of them refused.

 After all, what was an oath of loyalty if it meant that they had access to the best, most intense magical training in the Sword Coast? Alain smiled. The way to the heart of wizards was power, knowledge and opportunity to use that power and knowledge. Guarding Amn did not give the Cowled Wizards much pleasure… but _ruling _it for an Emperor… _that _gave them opportunities to use their power as much as they liked to pursue anything they wished.

 Alain shifted himself through the tiny gap in the door of a derelict building, and then, safe within the building, he allowed the smoke to solidify, to slowly gain corporeality. The edges of his robes were the last to change from mist to cloth, and by the time they had, he was already walking forward, towards the door at the end of the hallway.

 The more powerful Cowled Wizards who were loyal to him were waiting within there, supposedly with a gift that would make him ecstatic. Wizards who were not prone to exaggeration saying such things excited Alain. What did they have that would make him ecstatic?

 He drove thoughts and questions away, and fixed in his mind a powerful nullifying spell, ready to cast it at a moments notice. Making sure he didn't use his hands to open the door- he was always wary of treachery- he strode into the room, his robes shifting like liquid shadow.

 "What is it then," he snapped his tone crisp and impatient. "What have you got that warrants my presence now, when I have many things weighing on me and devouring my time. Speak _quickly_ and _concisely, _I have no wish to stay here long."

 A wizard in russet robes, his face shrouded by a cowl, bowed. "Master… we have captured someone we thought would interest you… his name is Phaan Colwyvv… and our wizards have exerted much effort in capturing him discreetly. Mind-probing has confirmed that he is a Council member."

 Alain nodded. "You did not need mind-probing for that, just well-placed spies who see the Council of Six without masks… and without clothes. The whores of Athkatla are willing to tell anything, for the right price of course. Let me see… Phaan Colwyvv… he is the Tessarch, which makes him second only to the Meisarch… the leader… this is fortuitous indeed, wizard… bring him here."

 Pulling his black cowl to conceal his face, Alain waited as two wizards moved out of the room. They were gone for a few minutes, before they returned, with a man naked except for a loincloth, his feet and arms bound with chains. He was a wiry, hawk-nosed man, and he looked as if he was accustomed to power… although that was hidden behind fear, and surprise.

 "You… you are Cowled Wizards… _how dare you…_ how _dare _you kidnap me! I demand to be freed! You will be lucky to escape destruction when I am through with you! I will send the legions against you, I will unleash the forces of the Council… _do you hear?_"

 Alain stepped before the council member, and chuckled. He tugged roughly on the man's long hair, and pulled it so he faced him directly. "Tessarch Phaan Colwyvv… let me see… you are one of the two surviving Council Members from the original council… you used to work as a spy for the Shadow Thieves, but when you became a ruler of the Empire, you stopped, intent to make your fortune through slaving in the Underdark. You killed your five brothers so you could become the head of your family… and you often call on a girl called Rose after council meetings."

 The Tessarch paled. "How… how do you know such things?"

 The Chosen smiled, although he knew the Council member would not be able to see it. "My dear fellow, I know _everything…_ now… about releasing you… I think I might do that… wait there a moment, and I will take care of it all."

 A few mutters broke out among the wizards, but a pointed cough from Alain silenced them. He muttered a few words, and then touched Phaan's cheek almost tenderly, before releasing the spell in an instant. An agonised shriek echoed through the room, and magical energies lashed out against the Tessarch, flaying him alive, spattering his blood upon the floor as he writhed, shrieking and shrieking for a release that never came.

 Another whispered spell, and then a beam of blue light sped into Alain's hands, as he called the soul of the dead Tessarch towards him with magical syllables. Smiling, Alain pulled from his robes a pure crystal vial, and with another spell, sent the gleaming light of the Tessarch's soul into the vial, where it pulsed vibrantly…

 Alain then looked around the room, and said, "I want complete silence."

 He held the vial that shivered with the soul of the flayed man, and then started to chant quickly and carefully, summoning the powers of the Weave to his side, channelling the energies of the soul into his own bloodstream, where it was devoured hungrily by the blood of his father… he heard the screaming of the soul, as its identity was lost amidst the raging torrent of bloodlust that was Bhaal.

 And then Alain smiled, and he used the power of his divine blood to _melt_, his face losing all solidity, turning to mist for a moment, before turning into the hawk-nosed, thin man, whose eyes crackled with power… the rest of his body continued to melt away into mist, and then solidified into the form of the Tessarch. There were gasps of awe from the assembled wizards, and he knew they were wondering how he had done it.

 They would never be able to do it.

 It wasn't a seeming, which was an illusion, and therefore able to be dispelled… Alain was using the divine gifts of his blood to assimilate the identity of the man he had slain. It was one of the abilities being a Chosen of Bhaal granted him, along with immortality and other abilities. To be able to shape shift into the form of his victims, if he assimilated their soul, was a potent and very useful gift.

 "My fellows… it seems that I have just become a member of the Council."

*

 When Phaan entered the Council building the following day, there were comments on how well he looked, for he walked with a greater confidence than before. Nalia de'Arnise, the Meisarch, frowned, suddenly suspicious, and uttered a quick spell that would remove all traces of a seeming.

 Nothing happened, however. Phaan looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. "Is it the place of the Meisarch to check each Council member for… what?"

 Nalia blushed, and bowed her head. "Forgive me, I had a moments doubt. You know who it is we now face, Phaan. The Lord of Brynnlaw has somehow subverted the ogre magi to his cause. They have named him their master, and have turned their Empire to the worship of dark Bhaal. Although they do not move against us yet, I am sure that Alain will not wait. He will either come against us openly, marching at the head of his ogres- for they _are _his now –or he will work against us in secret, using the Cowled Wizards as his tool."

 There was an exasperated sigh. "Come now, Nalia. You have said all this before. The Cowled Wizards are a tool for no man, Chosen of Bhaal or not. You become almost tiresome with your constant warnings about the wizards. _You, _as Meisarch, are in charge of the wizards, so _you_, as Meisarch, should be able to control them. Not to mention the fact that you are the strongest archmage in the Sword Coast… if there was any issue, you could march into the Cowled Wizard stronghold, and defeat them completely."

 Phaan took his place at the Council table as a woman spoke caustically to Nalia. It was interesting to find out that at least one member of the Council did not particularly like de'Arnise… perhaps their rivalries could be manipulated… or better yet, perhaps more of the Council could be converted to his cause. They were after power, just like the wizards, only they wished gold as well. Power and gold could be given to them, if they swore allegiance to him…

 But they would never swear allegiance to him while de'Arnise was leader of the Council. No doubt she had Harper spies placed throughout the city, who would find out in an instant if any of the Council wished to betray her. In that way, Nalia was a tyrant… though she would never admit it to herself.

 "I am waiting for the proof they seem to so easily hide… and that in itself is a warning that Alain is working from within the Cowled Wizards…"

 Inwardly, Phaan- or Alain- smiled. It had taken him years to change the way the wizards did things. Before, they had incriminating evidence everywhere in Amn. Had Nalia acted then, she could have destroyed the wizards utterly… but she hadn't, because then, she hadn't been a Council member… so while she was consolidating her power, Alain was working with the Cowled Wizards to remove all evidence of foul play.

 And now it left her in an awkward position.

 For years, she had been denouncing the Cowled Wizards as evil and power-hungry, yet now, when it came to the crunch, she had no proof of anything. Phaan licked his lips. So another of his plans had been successful… it had fermented disunity within the Council.

 A younger man, who Alain knew was the Dehaunarch Pehluss Tanislove, said, "Enough of this, Nalia… we can deal with the Cowled Wizards when the time comes. I think we must discuss plans for the defence of the north. As you say, Alain will move soon… and with a hundred thousand ogres, orcs and hobgoblins under his command, he can overwhelm us easily."

 Nalia shook her head. "Not easily. Along the frontier, we have seventy thousand legionaries, supported by Harper wizards and priests. Every border fort is strong… we even have another forty thousand soldiers marching south as we speak. If he moves the army north, then he will be defeated with ease, whether or not he is an archmage."

 Pehluss said, "They number far more than a hundred thousand, Nalia. There are another fifty thousand throughout the empire, guarding towns and fortresses, protecting the coast… those ogre magi were no fools, unfortunately. They moved quickly to take the south, and then consolidated their conquests so that we could never take it back even if we wished to."

 Phaan interrupted. "Have we included any considerations for Alain moving troops by ship?"

 The archmage de'Arnise looked at him, and then shook her head. "No… Alain won't do that… he has very few ships… I have seen them docked at Brynnlaw. His control over the pirate town has given him seven ships, which he uses to pillage and loot ships bound from Maztica… it has given him an impressive hoard of gold… he has also raided the Gate and Waterdeep, stealing tomes and magical artefacts… but he does not have the numbers of ships necessary to launch a seaward invasion."

 Again, Phaan said, "My sources say he has ten ships in Murann, and another five docked at a beach north of there… at that to the seven ships at Brynnlaw… and there is enough space to transport the crew of thirty pirates, along with a hundred soldiers…"

 Nalia said, "They cannot be transported in enough numbers to make a difference, and Alain will not do so. I know him well… if he cannot gain instant success from an operation, he does not act at all. For all his subtlety in magic, his intellect leaves a lot to be desired."

 The business of the Council went on, and Phaan sat there, and mused. So another of his plans had worked, to lull the Councillor de'Arnise into a false sense of security. Years of _tiny _plans and intrigues that had escaped her notice had given him the strong position from which to launch his invasion… years of intrigue had given her the impression- false, of course- that he was a poor planner.

 But she would be proved wrong… for now he knew that the coast of Amn was barely defended. He would send Cowled Wizards to each of the docks where he had ships, and would have them place wards against scrying upon them. Nalia would believe the ships remained in their docks, and so would be taken completely by surprise when an army led by Alain, along with many wizards, cutthroat pirates and powerful ogres, invaded the soft heartlands of Amn.

 Phaan did not smile, though inside, he couldn't wait.


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE: PIRATES**

****

 "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

 A scream of pain split through the air after the wizard muttered the ritual phrase. Alain watched as the curved dagger sliced through the chest of the Cyricist priest, tearing out his heart, and releasing a jet of crimson blood that splashed across the altar. The wizard bowed, then drew the symbol of Bhaal with blood, on the forehead of the dead priest. He then wiped his hands in the blood, and before the eyes of the gathered wizards of Spellhold, the blood vanished, as Bhaal drank.

 Alain watched then, as another wizard strode forward, and smiled as another priest was flung onto the blood-dripping altar. As of yet, Alain had not sacrificed a priest to Bhaal… his wizards and apprentices were doing that. In past days, the priests of Bhaal would have conducted the sacrifice rituals, but there were no priests left, and so Alain had to use the wizards in Spellhold as the priests.

 For now at least.

 With the tomes that detailed the hierarchy and organisation of Bhaal's church, Alain intended to forge a new church within Amn, where he was its head, as the son of the god. Every priest, every temple, would bow to _him, _the immortal Bhaalspawn… the wizards of Spellhold would pray to Bhaal as well, but they would use magic to further the power of Murder, rather than the arts of the divine.

 "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

 Another scream, and this time there seemed to be much more blood than before. Alain smiled as a trickle of blood flowed towards him. Without pausing, he touched his finger into the blood, and lifted it to his lips, savouring the metallic taste, the warmth of the blood… the faint feel of cooling as the life it powered faded away. Again, the blood on the hand of the wizard conducting the ritual favoured, as Bhaal drank deep again.

 The pirate lord of Brynnlaw, Harald Skae, was pale as he knelt beside Alain. He was an evil man, out for personal gain, who knew that by supporting Alain, he would be able to plunder ships bound for Waterdeep and the Gate to his hearts content. Already, he had command of all ships, which gave him the largest pirate fleet in the Sword Coast… and he gained that through loyalty to Alain… and worship to Bhaal. Yet he was pale at the sight of blood… or maybe it was just the sheer _amount _of it.

 Alain found it difficult to understand how someone couldn't be exciting by the look, the feel, the _taste _of blood… but then, as the son of a god, with dark desires running through his veins, Alain knew he was different. But the wizards were not pale… only Harald…

 "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

 Once again, a priest of Cyric screamed, and this time, when Alain looked at Harald, he saw a look of excitement, as the pirate lord finally overcame his nausea, to delight in the spilling of warm, gushing blood. Alain found himself smiling as the pirate dipped his index finger in the blood, and sucked on his finger for a long moment.

 "Are your ships on their way to Amn, Lord Harald?"

 The pirate nodded. "Aye. They's skimming through water like birds, with the spells y'er wizards put on'em… thirty ships, all sailing t'wards Amn, packed with m'pirates, and ogres… the de'Arnise bitch won't know what hit'em."

 Alain said, "You gave the captains express orders, like I commanded?"

 "Again, aye. I told'em that they were to'ug the coast careful-like… and then t'beach at a deserted place, before marchin' east… and then'ey can burn and raze as'ey like. They's meant to march south then, t'take the garrisons by surprise."

 The Master of Spellhold smiled. "Good. It has begun, then."

 They knelt there silently for a moment.

 "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

 This time the shriek was louder and more agonised than it had been before, and Alain raised an eyebrow in interest as he saw- a young apprentice, this time- plunge the dagger without any finesse, into the stomach of the cleric, slicing roughly. Entrails, like many thin and writhing words blurted out onto the courtyard, and even Alain wrinkled his nose at the smell of excrement, as, with tears of agony and humiliation, the Cyricist lost control of his bowels, sending wave after wave of stinking mass tumbling upon the floor.

 Again, he screamed, as the apprentice slashed with the knife, this time cutting the throat- but he didn't penetrate the jugular. Eyes shining with a fervent light, the apprentice stabbed again, the knife slicing into the eye of the priest, who writhed then in his chains, calling out to the Dark Sun.

 The apprentice stopped then, and said, "This suffering will end if you embrace Bhaal!"

 Alain raised an eyebrow, and wizards moved forward to eliminate the presumptuous apprentice, but the Master of Spellhold raised his hand. The fervour and commitment of this boy- who could only be fifteen, had impressed him, and he wanted to see what the dying priest would do.

 "I serve no-one but the Dark Sun, servant of the usurper!"

 The apprentice stabbed again, this time chopping into the shoulder of the priest. Then he removed the dagger, and chanted a quick spell. Alain watched as the stomach of the man shone with the blue light of a healing spell… he watched, still interested, as the boy said, "Embrace Bhaal, or I will cut you again and again, healing you as I do, so that you will know pain unimagined!"

 The priest of Cyric shook his head, and the boy sighed, slicing the other shoulder, this time parting nerves. Asking the priest now, the boy said, "_Will you embrace Bhaal?"_

 Again, the Cyricist shook his head, and the boy snarled. "Then perhaps it is time you lost the thing most precious to you. Viciously, the boy tore away the priest's loincloth, and placed the cold steel against his thigh, and proclaimed: "_Embrace the Lord of Murder, and you will have a quick death!"_

 And this time, the Cyricist cried out: "I kneel before Bhaal! I kneel before the Lord of Murder! I am his slave, his loyal slave for all eternity! Please, do not _hurt _me anymore!"

 The boy smiled, "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

 The priest screamed once, and then died as blood leaped from his torn throat, splashing at the courtyard in torrents of crimson froth. Looking directly at Alain, the boy placed his hands in the blood, and lifted them up into the air, the blood disappearing, as Bhaal once again, drank.

 Alain whispered to a wizard, "When the rituals are over, send the boy to me… I think he may be a useful addition to our inner ranks… and perhaps he might be the first new priest of Bhaal… as interesting as that may be."

 The wizard nodded, and Alain stood, walking up the stone steps to the library, brushing his hands through the blood that clung to the banisters as he did so. Behind him, there was another agonised scream, followed by the chilling words, "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

*

 It was midnight, and the ritual had finished half and hour ago. The blood now formed a small lake in the courtyard, and wizards walked through two inches of it as they strode to their private quarters. Looking out at the lake of crimson, Alain could see the shadow of Bhaal's symbol, as blood, in spinning rivulets moved in odd patterns. It was a sign of Bhaal's approval for the blood that had been spilt this day for him.

 The stars in the sky above Spellhold rose, flickering and gleaming, like tiny globes of silver fire, and Alain cast his mind back, thinking of his youth at Candlekeep, when he had looked up into the night sky, after having learned a new spell from Gorion… his foster-father.

 Inevitably, when his mind remembered Candlekeep, he also remembered Imoen, and the touch of her soft hands as they made love in Saradush, as the flaming stones from catapults plunged the city into fire, shattering building and street alike. He remembered the hunger that had risen to claim him, and the hunger that had shone, pure, in her own eyes, as they kissed and gave themselves to each other while the city stood besieged by Yaga-Shura and his Fire Giants.

 On that day, Alain's son had been conceived, and Imoen had told him that she loved him. But both knew that it could not work. Imoen was firmly committed to the cause of good, and intended to join the Harpers when the Five were defeated. Alain was out for power beyond all else, and wanted to carve out his own empire… yet the two of them possessed a bond, because only they understood what it was like to be a Child of Bhaal, fighting for survival with the taint of their father.

 She had cried, after Amelyssan lay shattered, for she knew that their love was meaningless. Neither of them could change, although both wanted it so very much. The Solar had come to them, and Imoen had immediately given up the dark power within her. Alain had wrestled with it for a moment, and then had given up the power also, and from the pool of corruption beneath Boareskyr Bridge, where Bhaal had fallen, the Lord of Murder rose again, his evil blotting out the son for hours, as he lashed upwards towards the heavens, seizing power from Cyric, and standing then, supreme and unchallenged, before Imoen, Alain and the rest of his company.

 Imoen had denounced him, and Bhaal had let her go, because he owed her much, despite being diametrically opposed to his stance. Alain had been given a portion of Bhaal's power, and had become first of his Chosen… Korgan had been given new powers, ones that harnessed his bloodlust. He was a true servant of Bhaal, for the deaths he brought to the Lord of Murder had been in their thousands. Sarevok too, had been honoured with power, and had been given new armour and sword, possessed of greater power than they had before… Bodhi had been given a soul to defeat the elven curse… and Anomen, priest of Helm, had turned from his god, to become the first knight of Bhaal, for over the year of fighting, he had fallen in love with the blood, fallen in love with the killing.

 It had been a dark day for the Realms indeed, for out of six companions, rose four terrors blessed with the power and patronage of a god. And with the four terrors, stood a Chosen, one with power and abilities to match the power of Elminster, Khelben Blackstaff and the Seven Sisters. Yet a small spark of hope remained, for Imoen left Alain then, realising that their love could never be anything more, and with her went the son of Alain, who had absorbed the power of fallen dragons, wizards and angelic foes while in her womb.

 A tear trickled down Alain's cheek, as he thought about his son. He had scried him often enough- Imoen had mercy enough not to put wards on the child… he was now ten, and possessed the beauty and vitality of his mother. But it was apparent from the way he acted, often unleashing spells in a fury against other children, that he took after his father… and grandfather, in more ways than one. 

 Imoen had tried to teach him the path of right, Alain had seen her struggling to teach him restraint more than once, but she was failing, and he was becoming undisciplined because of it. She should have seen the futility of teaching him goodness years ago, and worked instead on teaching him discipline… but then, she had always been blind to evil in those she loved… and the evil in her own actions.

 For what else could drive her to incest with one who embraced evil magic, and walked with the foulest creatures of the world… what else could have driven her to love him, the cold, calculating Chosen who wanted nothing more than his own empire, and an army of slaves.

 "Master… the boy is here."

 In a few seconds of folly, Alain thought that man spoke of his son, but then he remembered the boy who had forced the dying priest of Cyric to turn to Bhaal as he died… a boy whose eyes had shone with desire for blood, and a fervent dedication to the Lord of Murder.

 A single word was whispered and the tear on his cheek evaporated. His eyes grew hard and cold, as befitted the Master of Spellhold, and then he turned around, to see a black-robed wizard standing beside the boy from the ritual.

 He looked completely different without blood all over him. His hair was brown, his eyes were a brilliant blue, and his skin was pale. There was a hint of nervousness about him, but mainly Alain could sense… excitement.

 "Leave us," said Alain, making a swift gesture with his hand. The wizard bowed, and walked out of the library, leaving the two of them alone. "What is your name, boy?"

 The boy licked his lips nervously. "Laadan, Master…"

 _Laadan… _the name shivered through his mind like ice, and tore viciously like flame.

 _Laadan…_

 There was something in that name that made the darkness in his blood stir, and he felt his throat tighten as he looked at the boy… whoever he was, he was important… but why? What was he meant to do… why was he here?

 Alain hated not knowing the answers to questions.


	4. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR: DUELLING WITH GOODNESS**

****

 Phaan arrived late for the Council meeting, and sang exultantly inside at the chaos and disunity he saw. The Dehaunarch, the Council member in charge of the armed forces, was shouting at Nalia, who was pale and drawn, looking over an enchanted map with hundreds of red dots of ink that showed the villages that had been looted by the pirates and ogres, who, as a force of about four thousand, had rampaged through the virtually undefended north, razing garrisons when they came to them.

 On the map as well, he saw the masses of green dots that stood for the armies of _his _empire, masses of them. Even as he looked, the green dots were advancing north, breaking through the lines of border garrisons, and plunging further north. And then there were the blue dots, which signified the Amnian legions. With the help of Harper wizards, they were holding onto the few fortresses they held along the border, and were now making Alain's warriors push for even the tiniest gain. 

 But the gains had been made. The static line had been broken, and now Alain had control of the borders, and loot, slaves and supplies were being shipped constantly to Murann and Brynnlaw, to pay the pirates for their loyalty. When the mercenaries from the rest of Amn received his summons, and crates of gold, then the war against Amn could be won. The main lines had been shattered, the Amnian forces had been weakened… now all he needed was a last _push _with new warriors, and he could raze that last fortresses, and then march on Athkatla itself.

 If the City of Coin was to fall, however, and if Alain was to gain control of the empire completely, the leaders of the nation had to be killed… and that was his plan for today. If he removed Nalia, taking her by surprise while in Phaan's form, then the order in Amn would crumble, and he might not even _need _the mercenaries to conquer the rest of the Coinland.

 "You're late, Phaan. We discuss the future of this entire nation, and you show up _late_?"

 Nalia looked awful. Her hair was dishevelled, and her voice weary and exasperated. He almost felt sorry for her, but then he looked at her again, more closely, and any trace of pity was stamped out instantly. If she failed, then she deserved everything she got because of it. If she believed she could stand against him, if she believed she was superior to him, then let her deal with the consequences of being wrong- horribly, horribly wrong.

 "My lady Nalia, I was busy preparing my estates near Amnwater for an ogre attack… the forces loyal to the Master of Spellhold are _everywhere, _and our armies seem to be doing little to stop them… had you listened to me a month ago, my lady, when I warned you about a seaward invasion, we would not be in this mess, so _do not talk to me about_ being late!"

 She sighed. "I know… forgive me, Phaan… I am just… tired. Whatever I do, whatever actions we take, are countered almost immediately by that cursed Bhaalspawn. I never suspected him of being such a cunning tactician… to predict the moves we make, even before we make them… Mystra knows how much I have blundered."

 Phaan gave her a sympathetic squeeze on the arm, and smiled comfortingly at her. "Know this, my lady… I will stand with you even to the end. When the ogres lay siege to this City of Coin, I will stand alongside you, and I will face death in the eye, as a true ruler of Amn must. This I swear."

 He saw tears appear in the eyes of the archmage, and he sneered maliciously within his heart. She deserved to be crushed, for being so weak… she epitomised everything he hated about the hypocritical servants of goodness… who cried and cried for the sorrows of the world, even though they could do nothing about them, and even caused many of the sorrows through inaction and cowardice.

 "_Thank you, _Phaan… _thank you._"

 He sat down, and watched as she exhorted, pleased, begged and bellowed, and even he had to admire her charisma and presence. After twenty minutes, the Council rallied around her, aided by Phaan. Many who wanted Amn to be destroyed, and who were in his position, might have wanted to continue spreading discord, but Phaan wanted to ensure that everyone was united around Nalia… so that when he killed her, they would be completely demoralised.

 When the Council stood up to leave, he realised that now was his chance. He stood, and held up his hand for silence, and the Council members sat, watching him to see what he had to say, possibly hoping that he would offer them a plan to escape death. He looked at each one in turn, and then whispered something. 

 Nalia frowned, "Sorry, Phaan? I can't hear you."

 An amused chuckle echoed through his mind, that Nalia couldn't even sense when a death spell was being uttered. The Council members narrowed their eyes, as grey magic started to play around his fingers, like sinuous worms, and then they yelled, panic-stricken.

 "He means to kill us!"  
 The archmage de'Arnise breathed, "_Traitor!"_

 Phaan smirked as his death spell struck the table, and each spark of death magic struck the Council members. There were four pained, shocked and quiet grunts, and they slumped against the table, dead… their leadership for Amn completely gone.

 Nalia paled then, and she sent a blast of green light- a finger of death that would dispatch most middling wizards… and the real Phaan, as Nalia knew, had only been an extremely weak wizard, whose energy had probably been exhausted by casting the death spell.

 But smiling openly now, Phaan let the light strike him. He grunted as the magical force tugged at him, but the blood of a god flowed in his veins… he was not going to be dispatched with such casual ease… Nalia's eyes widened, and she took a step back. 

 _"Who…"_

 Phaan rolled his eyes. "Can't you _guess _yet, Nalia? They said you were intelligent!"

 "_No…"_

 He chuckled nastily. _"Yes…"_

 The form of Phaan vanished into a hazy mist, which solidified gradually, and he assumed the shape of Alain, Master of Spellhold, Lord of Brynnlaw… and soon to be Emperor of Amn. Nalia stumbled for a moment, her spirit defeated, but then that spirit snapped back again, and she said, "It is between you and I then, Alain…"

 He nodded suddenly full of respect for the woman who had worked so long to thwart him… for ten years in fact. Briefly, he wondered what it would be like to finally rid him of her… but he couldn't imagine it. "Then let is begin."

 Lightning lashed from his fingers, and wrapped itself around Nalia, and she shuddered as shock after shock raced through her body. But then the lightning fizzled out, as she dispelled it with a brief incantation. Alain retained the initiative by sending a volley of force missiles against her, but a hastily erected shield spell protected Nalia from any damage.

 Eyes flashing with power, she sent a cone of cold washing towards him, and he heard the table crash to the floor as the force of the magic flung it aside. Alain raised his hand, and protected himself with a wall of flame, that melted the ice before it reached him. 

 As Nalia paused for breath, Alain sent a fireball rocketing towards her. Nalia teleported herself away from the blast, but the massive explosion destroyed the wall, and he heard screams of fear as servants started to run. The Council Chambers, on the second floor of the building, were now open to the air, and a crowd of people were gathering to watch the duelling wizards.

 A blast of fire knocked him to the floor, but before Nalia could attack again, Alain rolled to one side, and stood up, releasing a spell as he did so. Another fireball and then another explosion. Nalia grunted, and whispered a single word. A sphere of solid air surrounded her, protecting her from the flames and heat. 

 Alain then launched three lethal ice daggers towards her, which crumbled the sphere easily. Nalia responded by sending blasts of energy, rainbow coloured and powerful, towards him. He rolled his eyes, and erected a shield, which protected him from her magic easily. 

 As Nalia started to chant another spell, Alain sent a blast of black energy slicing towards her, and de'Arnise was knocked to one side, cast onto the rubble of the Council chambers. Groaning, Nalia tried to stand, but could not, as she was dazed. Alain started to chant a quick spell, but as he did so, a Cowled Wizard appeared with a flash, and sent a lightning bolt tearing towards Nalia.

 With an angry roar, Alain killed the wizard with a massive concussion of energy, and looked at Nalia, who stared at him in surprise. By way of explanation, he said, "This is between me and you… no-one else…"

 He expected Nalia to nod, or say _something, _but instead she sent a whip of energy curling around him, slicing into his skin like thousands of teeth. Without panicking, for panic would mean his death, Alain unleashed one of his contingencies, a Shout spell. Nalia was lifted from her feet, and flew through the air, bleeding on her forehead where a piece of sharp rubble had sliced deep.

 Alain struggled to draw breath for a moment, and then gestured with his hand, and called to the heavens. There was a rumbling, and from the sky, plunged meteors of gargantuan proportion, all soaring towards Nalia. Fire erupted in the Government District, and entire buildings were laid low with the meteor swarm, but from the flames, Nalia walked unhurt.

 A lightning bolt crackled towards him, but rather than wasting energy in blocking it, Alain ran out of the way, aided by his boots of speed and levitation. Uttering the command word for his boots, he soared upwards into the air, wreathed in black power, like some avenging dark solar.

 Nalia saw him, and levitated herself, and shimmering white power appeared around her. There were more screams, and those who were sensible fled now, shouting for the Cowled Wizards… for anyone who would help stop the nightmare these two mages were unleashing.

 Using the moonlight as a focus, Nalia sent a wall of pure silver light towards him, but Alain contemptuously levitated upwards, and the spell passed harmlessly to one side. Reacting quickly to the change in duel, from one of two dimensions, into one of three, Alain pulled out a red globe, one of the globes he had seized from Watcher's Keep.

 He sent a fireball washing towards Nalia, but it was a fireball that homed in on its target. Nalia, however, did not panic like many lesser wizards would have done. She just stood there, and a globe of shimmering white power surrounded her.

 Alain started to chant another spell, but lost control of the magic, when he saw Nalia's eyes start to glow white, lightning arcing from her head towards him. The magic struck him directly, and he screamed as the energies wracked through him… but his robes protected him, and dissolved the lightning before it could do much damage.

 He cast another spell, and from his mouth, leapt thin, writhing vipers, that flew towards Nalia, enchanted by magic that enabled them to fly. Nalia raised an eyebrow, and sent a grey death spell towards the vipers, killing all of them instantly, sending their limp bodies towards the crowds below.

 _The crowds below._

 An idea suddenly took root within Alain's mind, and he sent blast after blast of energy, not at Nalia, but at her _boots, _and watched as she plunged to the ground, the levitation magic gone forever. A quick stone skin spell saved her from death, but Alain's plan had succeeded.

 Now Nalia was vulnerable on the ground.

 He touched down on the floor, in the centre of the crowds of civilians, and he chuckled to himself. A series of complicated words later, and a sweeping red light leapt from him in a great ring, and he heard the multitude of screams as the life-force of the crowd around him was whipped away. He felt their energy enter his bloodstream, and he gasped with the potency of it, as his Bhaal blood absorbed their power… he groaned in sheer ecstasy, and had he not spent years developing his control over his Bhaal powers, then he would have lost his mind… 

 As it was, he forced himself to open his eyes, and saw the crowd of civilians had been stripped of their flesh, turned into skeletons on which tatters of clothing now hung. Their hands transformed into hideous claws, and they lumbered towards Nalia, who was paler than he had ever seen her now.

 Not waiting for her to deal with his undead minions, sent magic missile after magic missile at the archmage, distracting her attempts to banish the undead. By the time she was surrounded by the undead, Nalia had not cast a single spell, and the power in Alain's blood was starting to hum with a vibrancy that it had never possessed before.

 A claw struck Nalia brutally, and she screamed as crimson blood spurted.

 Another claw sliced across her face, and yet another spell of hers disintegrated into useless, harmless magical sparks. Knowing that eventually, Nalia would defeat the undead, Alain started to cast his most powerful spell, summoning the power of his Bhaal blood, and channelling it into the workings of his spell. Energy gathered around him once again, black and foreboding, and he saw Nalia looked fearfully at him. 

 Fire flowed from her in desperation, and the undead were burned into ash, and Nalia was finally able to send a swarm of magic missiles towards Alain… but by then, it was too late… his spell was finished… every light within the radius of a mile was extinguished, and even the light of the stars faded… everyone found themselves unable to see, except for Alain, who could see perfectly.

 Energy swept into Nalia, and he saw as her skin was ripped apart, as if by a savage demon, though Alain knew there was no demon, only the berserk souls of the civilians he had killed, seeking someone to kill, seeking blood to spill. 

 When the lights returned, Nalia was stumbling towards him, bleeding, sobbing, and dribbling… she had been driven insane… either that, or she now had the mental capacity of a two-year old… she halted about a metre from Alain, and fell to her knees, her silver tears now turned to blood, as she shrieked, desperately trying to find release from the pain.

 But the release did not come, and she finally collapsed, dead, after ten minutes of agonised screaming.

 Alain looked at her bloody corpse, and knelt beside it. He drew the insignia of Bhaal on the floor in her blood, and then plunged his hand into the gaping hole in her chest, and touched her still heart. When he raised his hand into the air, the blood had disappeared.

 Standing, he looked almost sadly at the wrecked body of Nalia de'Arnise, and he whispered, "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee…"

 With a long pause, he finished, "_none_ escape Bhaal."

 Alain made sure none were watching- none remained alive _to _watch- before shape shifting into the form of Phaan… it was time to take control of a nation, and proclaim himself Emperor of the Coinland… it was time for Bhaal's greatness to be finally recognised.


	5. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE: EMPEROR**

 The conquest of Amn went smoothly.

 Phaan, as the sole survivor of the outrageous, treacherous attack upon Nalia de'Arnise by the Master of Spellhold, immediately called the mercenary troops of Amn into the capitol. Naturally, to cleanse the Cowled Wizards of traitors, he sent those wizards loyal to him; wizards who wore black robes, against half of the order, the half who had refused to worship Bhaal. Needless to say, those loyal to Phaan easily defeated the others.

 Together, the mercenaries and Cowled Wizards, who now openly wore black robes with a red trim, kept control of the panicking civilians. Phaan took this opportunity to eliminate the Shadow Thieves, who he knew would support Alain as soon as he invaded. The guild houses in the Dock District were burned by magic, and the last thief was rounded up and hung, named as traitors to Amn. 

 The crowds of civilians cheered their deaths, and raised their voices to praise Phaan, the Councillor who refused to see Amn defeated by its enemies. The lords and merchant princes of the empire often visited him in his estates… some did not leave, but were hung the next day as traitors. Others left smiling, commenting on how noble the Councillor was, and how the prosperity of the Coinland would be preserved…

 Unfortunately, even the nobility of Phaan could not protect the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart… the Master of Spellhold attacked with the few Cowled Wizards who yet wore brown robes, and they sent death magic against the building, destroying all who opposed them. The backlash of magic created a massive firestorm that gutted the Temple District, eliminating all priests of every faith.

 Reports came every day of the encroachment of the forces of Alain, but did Phaan falter once? No, he commanded the Cowled Wizards to summon basalt rock from the mountains, and to craft the walls of Athkatla with magic, so they grew higher, stronger… until the City of Coin resembled more a great mountain that a walled city.

 The legions in every other city of Amn were recalled to the capitol, arriving a week before the army of humanoids and ogres. Phaan, desperate to ensure the survival of his city and nation, assembled all the generals of the army. 

 At dawn, seventy-eight of the hundred generals hung as traitors to Amn.

 The naval forces of the empire were docked, and most of the captains declared their full support for Phaan… but a few did not. Their ships and holdings were confiscated, and they hung as traitors the following day, alongside the bodies of the generals and merchants.

 The city was peaceful then, for a week, and prosperity returned, as merchants sold their goods, bartered, and spread the news that their leader, Phaan, was the greatest ruler they had ever had… and that if Alain wanted to defeat them, he would have to go through Phaan first. The common people of Amn lapped up these rumours, and reports came through that Phaan visited every city in Amn, contacting those loyal wizards and warriors, having them strengthen the walls of every city, having the traitors to Amn- and there were thousands- hung, and then their corpses butchered so that Alain, Master of Spellhold might see that Phaan was unafraid.

 Had anyone been able to see into the south, they might have wondered at the similarities between the wizards walking there, in there black and red robes… the similarities that made every major city an immense mountain of a stronghold… Had anyone really been interested, they might have noticed the small circles, small insignias to Bhaal painted beside the treacherous corpses of traitors… they might have noticed that every night there were strange screams, followed by several chants.

 Had anyone listened closely, they would have heard, echoing through the alleyways of every Amnian city, town and village, "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

 Every day, there were celebrations, and free food and coin was passed out to the poor, who rejoiced in the mercy of Phaan, whose greatness would defeat the power of Spellhold easily… they all expected the legions of Amn to ride out against the dark empire… but none expected the actions of Phaan as he looked out at the ogre hordes that gathered below the walls of Athkatla.

 "I have no wish to plunge my kingdom into slaughter," he proclaimed, to awed civilians. "This morning, I surrendered to the Lord of Brynnlaw… I have declared Alain the new Emperor of Amn, and the lords, merchants and generals of this empire have agreed with me. Peace must flower… we must make peace with the hordes… we must share, and mingle… in this new empire, there will be no poor… there will be no good, no evil… only prosperity."

 And then several people had cheered, and, as if it was contagious, the rest of the crowds had started to cheer. Phaan left then, returning to remote estates, it was said, to mourn the loss of his lover and friend, Nalia de'Arnise… 

 Alain, Master of Spellhold, was welcomed into Athkatla by the masses, which shrieked and screamed with joy and happiness. Gold was thrown to ogres, who marched resolutely on. The Chosen of Bhaal approached the devastated Government District, and with several potent spells, summoned into being a colossal black tower. The Black Tower, as it became known, was named as the palace of the Emperor, and solid gates of solid black steel were set with the insignia of Bhaal, Lord of Murder.

 As the crowds still cheered, Alain entered the tower alone, ascending through the bare rooms of the tower, until he stood on the highest balcony. And then, with the aid of his loyal wizards, he called into being shrines to Bhaal, which glistened black… with the symbols of Bhaal gleaming with unholy power… and still the crowds cheered, for their new ruler… 

 Alain, Chosen of Bhaal… Master of Spellhold… Lord of Brynnlaw and Emperor of the Coinland.

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**And that's it. Brief, yes… incomplete? Possibly… a bit of fun? That's all it was meant to be… something to entertain me this day, and to keep me doing something. Magic and Murder will be the true epic (I hope), and maybe I will right a sequel to this… or redo it… or something. I hope you enjoyed something where the evil guy won… but remember he still has Imoen to fight, the Harpers, Elminster and the Seven Sisters to defeat… he might have forged himself an empire, but things are far from over…**


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